


Stark Internship

by Un1ty



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alcohol, Aunt May is worried, Emotional Hurt, Fluff and Angst, Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, Gen, High School, House Party, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is independent, Protective Peter Parker, Spider-Man Interacting with New Yorkers, Spider-Man: Homecoming Spoilers, Stark internship, The Amazing Spider-Man Spoilers, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark is such a dad to Peter that it hurts, Water, What I do instead of studying for a test
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Un1ty/pseuds/Un1ty
Summary: I suck at summaries, but this story basically consists of Peter Parker fluff, bad Parker luck, identity reveal and concerned friends.While Peter is waiting for his job acceptance or rejection as an intern for Stark Industries to help pay aunt May with the rents, Peter struggles with both the life as a teenager and as a super hero. Aunt May is desperately trying to find love again and quite unexpectedly, he finds her sitting against the couch with a strange man.PS: this is set off 2 and a half years after Homecoming, with a mix of all the Spider-Man movies, comics and the new ps4 game.





	1. 10:26 a.m.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. This is what I’m doing instead of studying for a school test. I didn’t have anyone to read over this for me, plus this was originally written one year ago (I just freshed it up) so please ignore any grammar mistakes. Although I have two more chapters ready, I can't say for certain wether or not I'm going to continue this story.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

When the school bell rang, Peter hurried out of his third class of the day, his face immediately wrenching a grimace of discomfort. The school hallway was stinking— he couldn’t think of another way to describe it. This funky, ill-scented perfume mixed with stale sweat spread through the hallway, and with his enhanced senses, there was no worse way to spend the middle of a Friday school day.

A couple of students pushed themselves through where Peter was walking, resulting in him almost being knocked off his balance if it hadn't been for his Spidey-sense. Yes, he had seen it coming, but he wasn’t Spider-Man at school, and he was not going to bust himself by showing off.

“Yo, Parker!” He turned around, seeing one of the boys in the group looking back to throw a poisonous smirk at him before returning his attention to his friends. Of course Flash Thompson had been the one to almost throw him into the lockers— but seriously, though? Couldn't this guy just give him a break?

“Very funny, Flash!” Peter frustratedly returned as he opened his locker to switch books. Ned had suggested earlier that day that they could use their free period to study for the big history test on Monday. Despite that it was ten minutes until they were meeting outside, Peter was the last one to approach the table.

  

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

Unlike the school hallway, where hundreds of voices were shouting over one another, the school yard was quiet. Peter noticed it the moment he stepped out of the school, however the sounds remained like a rushing river in the background as the door constantly closed and opened by passing students.

“There you are!” Ned welcomed.

Ned and Peter had known each other for years. They would always joke around after class, build LEGO Star Wars builds, work on projects together, blah-blah-blah. The list basically went on into the infinite. If there was anyone Peter was glad to have by his side, it was definitely Ned. He trusted him with the other half of his life, although Ned had been the one to find out.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” Peter apologized as he dropped his books on the other side of the table and sat down on the bench. He pulled out the one earphone that was in his ear and opened his textbook on the first page of the three chapters they were going to be asked about. He sighed. He was so not eady for this.

“Three chapters, and I'm just starting to study," Peter admitted. He regretted not studying earlier, because this would take the whole weekend. 

Ned glared at him, his mouth forming a small O. "Bro!" He exclaimed, “you do realize this test is important, right? It’s worth thirty percent of our grade.”

“I know,” Peter responded truthfully– but this wasn't the only class he was failing in. Besides, he still had lots of time to study on. He had just been busy fighting insane scientists, gangsters, robbers, aliens, a crazy Vulture guy who had turned out to be the father of his girlfriend, a gigantic lizard, and whatever there has been for the last two and a half years. Especially the last part. Not to mention the large drug-dealing Mexican gang that showed up in Queens for a week that he only managed to stop just a couple of days ago. Not that it had been difficult or anything, but it had been some of a challenge to figure out their route, as he couldn't exactly just dive into a dark alley with trained assassins at every corner. He had learned that from previous experiences.

But to be honest, Peter would much rather be out fighting crime than to study for a school test. 

 

“You got notes?” Peter asked, looking up from the textbook to meet Ned’s gaze. His friend nodded and ripped out a page of his notebook that was written on both sides and shoved it across the table.

“I sometimes wonder how you even survive without me,” Ned said. A smile flickered across his face, and Peter just snorted and rolled his eyes, looking down on the piece of paper, but he quickly furrowed his brows.

“Dude, I can't even read this,” he stifled a laugh, holding up the paper with his hand. Ned quickly snapped it from his fingers. “Friendly advice; drop the cursive stuff.”

Ned looked at him seriously this time. “Oh, come on,” he whined, “I’m trying a new style.”

Peter made a grimace. “Calligraphy?”

“If you don't like my new style, forget my notes.”

“Seriously?” Peter groaned. It had been a while since Ned was this dramatic.

“Yes! Give me a month at tops and I’ll be writing like Leonardo Da Vinci.” said Ned.

“Backwards?”

“You get my point.”

Peter didn’t say anything in response. He looked back at the first page of chapter twenty four and continued to read the third sentence.

As Ned wasn’t paying much attention to what Peter was doing, Peter sneakily snatched Ned’s notes and tucked them into the left pocket of his jacket— the pocket that also worked as his trash bin. However, he was busted by the crunchy noises the paper made, and Ned quickly shot him a look. Peter simply grinned.

 

“So how’s things been this week? As Spider-Man?” Ned asked after a while. “Anything the guy in the chair can help with?” There was a hint of excitement in his voice, even though they had just talked about something familiar a few hours ago.

It was almost amusing, Peter thought, how much Ned enjoys helping him out as Spider-Man. But he was thankful. If it hadn't been for Ned, he wasn't sure if he would even be here today.

 

“Peachy keen,” Peter responded, “And you helped me with a robbery on Tuesday.”

“But I need _more_.” Ned begged. “Peter, you're KILLING me. My life, unlike yours, is boring. Can't you bite me or something so I can get powers like you?”

Okay, this was something Peter found slightly annoying. Ever since Ned had found out about his identity as Spider-Man, he had constantly been asking about all these questions and theories that shone above his head like a light bulb, some weirder than the other. But as annoying as they could be, they were sometimes wildly hilarious, like the one time Ned asked if he could summon an army of spiders. He wished he could, because that could really come in handy. And it would be pretty cool.

“You know it doesn't work that way.” Peter responded, his attention elsewhere.

“Well, have you tried?”

Peter looked up from his book. Ned just raised his eyebrows at him. Out of all of Ned’s crazy theories, this had to be the most insane one.

“Dude, are you on meth?”

“You got bit by a radioactive spider, and kaboom, powers! Maybe if you bit someone, the same thing that happened to you would happen to the person you bite.”

Okay, Ned had definitely eaten or drunk anything out of the ordinary.

Peter just continued to glare at him. “No! No no no. Even if it works, I can't just go around and bite people like a _vampire_.”

Peter knew it wasn't even possible, because only those in his bloodline could be affected by the spider bite the same way he was. His father had explained it on a video which Peter had seen not too long ago. Not that he would try it anyways.

“Well...” Ned trailed off. He seemed to be losing interest in the conversation. “Yeah.”

Peter mused about Ned’s first words for a minute, his gaze locked on the second page of the book. Did Ned not feel included enough? He frowned. He hoped that's not the case, but if so, it wouldn’t be difficult to change...

“You know, there’s no Spider-Man without the guy in the chair,” Peter began.

Ned looked at him. “Yeah.”

“And,” Peter said as if he hadn’t already heard Ned, “Jameson. The Daily Bugle dude, right? The oldie. I think we can all agree that he’s really been going down our pants lately, right? It’s like he’s asking to be messed with, so, I was thinking maybe we could, you know… payback?”

Ned nodded, the corners of his lips starting to form into a smile. Peter thought he was starting to see where he’s going at with this. If it hadnt been for the boss at The Daily Bugle that cast shadows over Spider-Man all the time, Peter wouldn’t really mind the media company. But Jameson’s hatred towards him really pissed him off— like when he had stopped the Vulture, the dude just _had_ to change the story completely. Saying that Spider-Man had stolen Stark Industries’ airplane and purposely crashed it on the beach. It was just lovely, wasn’t it?

“Say no more, I’m in.” Ned quickly said. Peter grinned. Then they're studying again. It goes like that for maybe twenty minutes; studying, talking, studying, talking. The silence wasn’t awkward at all, but Peter suspected Ned felt the urge to speak once every fourth minute.

   

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

  

Seconds before the bell rang, MJ sat down on the bench next to Peter. Ever since she had become the leader for the Decathlon team, – which was briefly two and a half years ago, – she had started to hang out with Peter and Ned more. To be honest, Peter thought she was cool and good at drawing, and apparently she had a pretty good music taste according to Ned.

 

MJ was wearing a plain t-shirt underneath her open dark denim jacket. She said hi without looking at Peter, and he said hi back, and then she looked at Ned, who was writing in his notebook again, and asked, “You’re into what, Ned?”

And he answered, “Yeah. Hi,”

“Loser, Neddy, I asked you a question.” She continued, obviously not letting the subject go.

Peter kicked at the gravelly dirt a little and watched a miniature dust cloud encircle his foot. When Ned didn’t answer, he kicked his leg under the table.

“Ouch!” He grunted, “Let me finish this sentence.”

At _least_ twenty seconds passed before Ned is done, and the silence was _unbearable_.

“Yeah, what did you say?” Ned finally said.

“You're into what?”

“Huh?”

“You said “Say no more, I’m in” seconds ago. I’m curious.”

“You realize you don't _need_ to know what we were talking about, right?” Ned said. MJ raised her eyebrows at him.

Ned then glared at Peter. He nodded. MJ already knew his identity as Spider-Man; she had caught him almost the same way Ned had. It was in sophomore year, when she and Ned had been invited over to his apartment to study, but in reality had ended up spending the night watching dumb world records on the TV. Peter, however, had forgotten about their plans and spent the afternoon fighting crime. If he had brought his phone along, he would have noticed Ned calling him, and wouldn't have had to explain himself when he came back to his room where Ned and MJ just happened to be sitting.

Peter knew it was an asshole thing of him that he hadn’t told both of his best friends earlier. But he had his reasons; the least thing he wanted was to put them in danger. If he could, he’d even tell aunt May.

 

Ned explained to MJ what they had been chatting about before she had arrived. Peter lagged back a little, listening to their conversation with a half ear as he focused on reading at least two more pages of the chapter. He needed to get at least and okay score at this test if he was going to graduate.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Peter heard MJ say. His head instantly snapped up from the book. _What is she talking about? It’s an awesome idea!_

“Hell yeah!” he protested before Ned even opened his mouth, “Jameson is literally _begging_ to be webbed up. Seriously! He’s been complaining about Spider-Man for years— it’s a shame how we haven't done anything yet.”

“Fine. But don't blame me when he’ll be even more pissed,” she backed off, “Anyways, I heard Tiny’s hosting a party tonight. Are we going?”

Peter put his textbook aside. “Since when did we start to attend parties?”

“Yeah,” Ned added. “Especially Tiny’s parties? He’s nearly as bad as Flash.”

MJ leaned back against the bench. “Glad that’s settled. My parents are out of town, though. Wanna come over?” She asked. Ned accepted immediately.

As much as Peter wanted to say yes too, because it’s been ages since the last time the three of them hung out, he knew he couldn’t because of the stupid test. “I don't know. I gotta study.”

“Peter,” she said more seriously, “Come on, it’ll be fun--”

Peter felt the hairs on his neck rise, and MJ was interrupted by a loud voice and hands landing harshly on the table.

“Well, isn’t it Penis Parker and co?”

It was Flash’s voice.

Peter was sure every time this dude spoke, he could feel his blood boil in frustration. He even struggled to keep a straight face.

“What’s up?” Flash tried.

MJ glared at him and spit, “What’s your point, Flash?”

“Just trying to start a friendly conversation, jeez.”

A big guy in a football jacket whispered something in Flash’s ear. Peter heard some parts of it. He sent MJ a look when Flash laughed, and she mouthed a, _Dude’s crazy for us_.

“As you probably know, my friend Tiny’s houting a party tonight.”

 _Oh boy_. Had he seriously come to convince them, _force_ them to join the party?

“It’s gonna be lit. You three should come. Invite Harry too, unless he’s too sick. Doesn’t he have the flu?” Flash took a pause to cast Peter a poisonous glance, “You’re probably too young and stuff for the drinks, but, you know.”

Quiet snickers came from the girl and boy around Flash.

“You do realize you’re around the same age as us, right?” MJ fired coldly at him.

Peter’s lips stretched into a small smile at Flash’s reaction; he did nothing except for changing the subject. _Ouch, did MJ hurt your feelings, Flash? Touché_.

“Eight o’clock tonight. Can’t wait to see you three’s dancing moves,” he said more coldly.

“We’re good on our own, thanks,” Ned insisted.

“Eight o’clock,” Flash repeated as if he didn't even hear Ned.

Peter looked up at him, eyes drilling into his.

“Got anything to say, Parker? I mean, you're coming too, aren't you?”

 _Fuck off_ , he wanted to throw into his face. _Leave us alone_. After all, Flash wasn't that crazy for him, was he? Did he really feel the need to bother him all the time? If he could, he’d mess up his pretty face, but how could he do that _and_ keep his secret identity safe?

 

“Actually, we’ve got plans.” Peter said.

“What plans?”

“A, uh– A thing. Things, I mean. Plans. Family stuff. Homework.”

“Sounds like the perfect time for a party.” Peter fought the urge to sit still and said, “We’re busy. Maybe next time.”

“Oh, seriously? You gotta stop disappointing me, guys.”

“I think you’d be just fine without us, Flash. Don’t you think?” MJ insisted.

Flash ignored MJ. Clearly, he was just looking for trouble and whatever _satisfaction_ he got by messing with them.

“See you guys there! Eight o’clock!” He turned around with his small fan group and yelled after them as he left their table.

Well, wasn’t this just splendid? If he didn’t want to be thrown up against the lockers on Monday, he had to be at the party long enough for Flash to see him.

 

Way to ruin a weekend.

 

 


	2. Tiny’s party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter, Ned and MJ attends to Tiny’s party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a couple of tags and changed the title because I know where the story is going now. Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those stories where I’m just writing and it turns into something random, but I wasn’t very sure in the beginning... I am now, though. ;)  
> Anyways, here’s chapter two! 
> 
> There might be a few errors here and there, because I’m in a hurry and trying to get this out before I go to sleep aah
> 
> Enjoy!!

When school had finally ended, Peter had rounded a corner and put on his Spider-man suit and dialed aunt May’s number. He figured that webbing his way home would be much quicker, and at least he got to be in the suit once today. As he told her that he was going to a party tonight, her answer wasn’t quite what he had expected.  
  


“ _You love Paul McCartney? What?_ ” Aunt May said over the phone. Peter repeated what he had just said and May said, “ _Oh, a party.”_ Still, she sounded a little distant, and Peter suspected that she was actually really busy at the hospital and wanted the conversation to be quick. 

“Right,” Peter bit his bottom lip and shot out a web, swinging upwards and landing on top of a building.

“ _Alright, as long as you go with Ned and Michelle. Is Harry going? Gwen? Also, you know I don’t like you out alone late. You know, there's lots of dangerous people on the streets, you never know who--_ ”

“May, I’m seventeen.” Peter interrupted, feeling the embarrassment burn under his mask.

“ _Okay, okay. But you have to be back by eleven.”_

“May!” Peter almost shouted. A man down at the streets looked confusedly up at him. But seriously, though? He was going to a party for the first time since Liz, so he was _definitely_ not going to be one of the first to leave.

 _“What? You heard me! Back by eleven,”_ May said again.

“Seriously?” Peter exclaimed, “This is a historical event. I haven't been at a party since Liz. History doesn't _have_ a curfew.”

There was a short moment of silence.

_“Back by eleven thirty.”_

Peter smiled wide in victory underneath the mask, thanked her, and then she had to go and listen to someone complain about how much pain they were in.

  
⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

As Peter climbed through the window of his room, he tucked the Spider-Man suit underneath his bed and got on with the studying. He ended up sitting non-stop with his textbook for three hours, trying to understand what he had just read through. It was one of those rare days where his motivation for school work was at the highest (probably because he did most certainly not want to fail) , which was great, and he had a feeling he might rock this test.

 

Peter looked at his watch. It showed 5:03 p.m., meaning it was more than half an hour until Ned would be here to pick him up. He had insisted to drive, because meanwhile Peter had been busy fighting crime, Ned had actually gotten himself a teen driver’s license. He has agreed to pick up MJ first so Peter could get more time to study on, but in reality, Peter has planned to use the half our, plus the extra ten minutes, to swing around in Queens. Who knew, maybe he would  stop some robbers or a car thief on the short period of time.

He pulled out the suit from underneath his bed. Holding it with two hands, he noticed how dirty it had already gotten. Upon closer inspection, he perceived a couple of bloodstained marks and cuts on it as well, and fuck, it _smelled_. How had he not noticed this before? Now he could definetly scratch his plans of checking out the city for the next half an hour. It smelled horrible, like it had been worn by a corpse shitting themselves to death.

Okay, maybe not _that_ bad.

But it was bad enough. Perhaps he could wash it as soon as he had gotten back home from the party, because there was no way he was going to risk his aunt finding out about the other half of his life, and especially not this way.  
  


Despite the back of his skull starting to buzz loudly and long before aunt May started to speak, Peter only threw the suit into his open closet when she had stepped halfway into his room.

“Hi, honey,” she greeted with a smile. Peter spun around in the desk chair so he could see her properly. She was wearing her work uniform, meaning she had just recently gotten home. But already, though? What time was it? 

“Hey, May,” he returned. 

Ever since Peter had become Spider-Man, he had had wounds and scars all over his body, some worse than the other. Not that it was a big problem, because, _hey_ – they healed! But lying to aunt May and saying that he had fallen on his skateboard, or that Steve from Brooklyn hit him again every time she noticed a bruise or a scar he hadn’t hidden well enough instead of telling the truth, wasn’t always easy, and Peter knew that she didn’t always believe him.

 However, when things got gravely bad, May would just stare at him like he was some helpless puppy and ask him who was doing this to him. Of course he didn’t tell the truth, because he just simply couldn’t, so he left her to worry even more about him.

And despite that he, strangely enough, had gotten somewhat used to it, he _hated_ throwing lies in her face.  
  


“How was your day? Good?”

Peter nodded, fingers playing with his pencil.

“I’m going out tonight, so I’m just gonna put a pizza in the oven for you. Is that alright?” 

Peter nodded again, frowning and grabbing the word, “Wait— as in dinner?”

Aunt May dropped her hands to her thighs, a large grin beaming across her face. She lit up with both excitement and pride. “Yeah, dinner!” She exclaimed, “‘Cause amazingly, I’m having a meal for once with a member of the male gender who’s over the age of 17.”

Peter rolled his eyes at her statement.

Her face expression changed, and she then looked at him with those sad, intense I-am-worried-about-you eyes and said, “So, your plans, then?”

“I’m leaving pretty soon, in thirty min or so. And then, just have some fun with MJ and Ned, and, uh, come home. And then go to bed. Study,” Peter informed with a shrug. They hadn’t really planned anything else than going to the party.

She nodded and leaned against the wall, “Okay, that’s good. We don’t need to have that chat about alcohol, do we?”

“May, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve drunk,” Peter said and scratched the back of his head, immediately regretting spilling the words at how she reacted.

“Peter!” She almost shouted, causing Peter to jerk back in the chair. “Are you out of your _goddamn_ mind? Drinking? When you’re only seventeen?”

May’s eyes were wide, and she seemed both disappointed and mad at him.

“Well… didn’t you?” He tried, slowly sinking back in his chair. His response seemed to have taken her aback, because she seemed to be struggling to find the right words.

“You know what,” Aunt May pointed towards where her bedroom was, “that’s enough parenting for one day. I’ll go and get dressed.”

Peter chuckled in amusement before he turned to the next page of the textbook. If the Spider-Man suit didn't stink so much, he would have spent the next twenty minutes patrolling, _no doubt_ , but instead he used it to study and eat slices of burnt pizza before getting dressed.

  
  
⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

Tiny McKeever lived in a mansion with the world’s richest parents. His parents were so disgustingly rich that, according to rumors, they bought an entire five-stars hotel for themselves to stay at for the weekend, just so they didn’t have to be a bother for the party. Peter didn’t even think they had jobs like any other adults with the amount of money they had. Tiny’s mansion consisted of hundreds upon hundreds of rooms, and that motherfucker even had a gigantic swimming pool– with an _island_.  
  


When Peter, Ned and MJ arrived, the party was already at its highest. The music was so loud that it made Peter’s skin tingle and his lungs feel like mush. Neon lights flashed from every corner of the gigantic living room like police sirens, and people were talking and laughing everywhere.

As usual, Ned was wearing his party hat. Definitely a bummer at this kind of party. MJ was wearing a stylish pink top underneath her open dark jacket, a dark skirt and her curly brown hair tied up. To Peter’s surprise, she was even wearing a little makeup.  
  


“Well, here we are,” MJ breathed. She didn’t even look the tiniest bit surprised.

“I need a drink,” Peter said over the loud bass, mostly because he wanted something to hold. Ned handed him one of the red party cups from the kitchen table full of a greenish liquid. He looked at it, then chugged it down in a matter of seconds.

“Way to go, dude,” Ned raised his brows. Yeah, well, but he wasn’t leaving this party without drinking anything, and now he could cross that off the list.

 

Peter placed the empty cup on the table nearby and made a grimace out of pure disgust and coughed. This was definitely one of the strongest drinks he had ever had— and he wasn’t much of a drinker in the first place. _Hell_ , he was underage!

His entire mouth was exploding upon exploding with the sour and vile taste. The taste was still burning in his throat as he reached for another cup and held it out for Ned, croaking out a, “Your turn. Tastes hot like flaming hell.”

“Sounds delightful, but I’ll pass,” Ned said. “Besides, I’m driving back, remember?”

Peter pushed the cup in MJ’s direction. She hesitated for a second, but took it.

“I can't believe I’m doing this.”

When she was drinking it, it looked like she was about to spit it all out on the nearest person, which in this case was Peter. To his big relief she didn’t; instead finishing the drink and exhaling deeply.

“Jesus,” she spat, “what’s in these?”

Peter just shook his head.  
  


An hour later, the three of them were slumped up against a yellow couch and two identical armchairs that had been pushed to the side of the open-plan living room slash kitchen to make room for a dance floor in the center. Both Peter and MJ had taken another drink each, except for Ned, who still insisted that he was driving home.

Peter was sinking further and further into the soft armchair, and he began to wonder if he was actually sinking into quicksand, or if it was simply the fact that he was becoming less and less aware of what was going on. Thank you very much, alcohol.  
  


“Why don't I have a nickname?” MJ suddenly asked. Peter looked confusedly at her. “I mean, Ned’s the guy in the chair, right?”

“Well, you don't exactly help out much with Spidey, do you?” Ned said.

“Well, let’s change that, then! You guys obviously need me.” She bursted out. Peter let out a puff of air; not so convinced. When did she suddenly get such an interest for Spider-Man?

While Ned and MJ were discussing the topic, Peter closed his eyes for a moment. Man, he could really use a glass of water right now. The room was super-hot, despite the doors that stood wide open. Another disadvantage of having enhanced senses.

 

Looking towards where the music was playing, Peter saw Flash standing by what looked like a big DJ table. It didn’t surprise him the _least_ that Flash was taking his freedom to be in control of the music. 

“GIVE ME A P!” Flash yelled, and the dancing teens responded, “P!” then he said, “GIVE ME AN E!” and the crowd responded, “E!” and then he said, “GIVE ME AN N!” and the crowd responded, “N!” He went on like that until the crowd was yelling _Penis Parker_.

_Penis Parker._

 

_Penis._

 

_Parker._

 

Peter gave out a sigh of annoyance. If he could, he would go over to the bully and give him a reversed donkey punch in the face. He wanted to do that surprisingly often in his life. Give him a king hit. And once he had started, he might as well blow the shit out of him. But he acted like he didn’t care, didn’t mind it, in hope of Flash to just stop. After all, there wasn’t much Peter Parker could do now without causing suspicion, was there?  
  


“By the way, Peter, have you heard anything about the application?” Ned asked. 

Oh, yeah. The internship. Perhaps it was stupid of him and too risky to apply for an internship for Stark Industries, but it was the only way he would be able to help with aunt May’s rents. Oscorp was out of the picture, and the Spider-Man pictures he was selling to the Daily Bugle weren’t paying off. Not to brag, but it was also somewhere he could finally use his intelligence somewhere other than at school.

 _And_ the payment was good. What did he have to lose? It wasn’t like he was Tony Stark was going to be around anyways; Peter would be working in a laboratory. As long as he didn’t awaken any suspiciousness, he was good.

All he had to do now was wait; wait and find our if he would be one of the ten of the 300 applicants who would work at Stark Industries for a week before the one, lucky bastard would be chosen to work there on part-time for as long as possible. 

Despite that it had been weeks since he had applied and Peter hadn't received his rejection letter yet, he was starting to lose faith he had even made it to round two. But who was he kidding? What was he hoping for? He was a _school student!_  
  


Peter exhaled. ”Still nothing yet.”

MJ looked skeptical. “I know I’ve said it before, but is it really that smart to be working underneath the nose of Tony Stark, who is a notoriously jerk by the way, unless you want people to find out?”

“I can't argue with you about Tony Stark, but hey– it’s fine! I need the money anyways. May’s the one who saw it in the paper, and you know how she is.” Peter said, giving her a smirk at the end of his sentence. She rolled her eyes.

“You know, sometimes you’re a real moron.”

“Well, I don't know about _that_.”

She glared at him for a second, then gave him a devilish smile. “Yeah, you’re right. You're a _complete_ idiot.” Peter’s smile faded before it widened and he gave her a light shove.

   
⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

“I just don't understand why it takes so long,” Ned was complaining about how long it took for _Star Wars: Episode IX_ to come out in the theaters.

“Because they need time to make the movies, man,” Peter murmured half-distracted by the awkward dancing Flash was doing. For such a good bully and athlete, the dude was an awful dancer.

“Once the first movie is out, you gotta wait _two_ _years_ for the second. It’s bullshit,” Ned continued to whine.

“Real torture.” Peter returned. He looked over at MJ, who was busy with her cell phone.

“On purpose!” Ned finished.

Peter’s gaze drifted from Ned back to MJ,who suddenly my stood up. “Get up,” MJ said to him and Ned, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. Parts of Peter wanted to protest, because he was seriously sitting comfortable in this chair.

“Are we leaving?” Ned asked.

“No, but we can't just sit here and be miserable. It’s depressing. Come on, let’s go dance.” She said.

_Oh no._

 

_Dance?_

 

_She couldn’t be serious._

 

“I can't dance,” Peter tried, but it wasn’t much of a help.

“Doesn't matter! Come on.”

Peter looked at Ned to see what he thought and for help to convince MJ not to, because there was no way Peter was showing MJ his moves without even practicing for a good five minutes first. But oh no, Ned didn't even look at him before he dragged himself up from the couch, and Peter thought he’s actually going to dance, but he then said, “You guys go ahead. I gotta go to the toilet.” _What an escape._

Peter thought about it for a moment. There was no way he was getting out of this. Aunt May had taught him some moves, yes, but that was only once and _two_ years ago. But whoever made up stupid sayings said that the way your weekend starts, is how it's gonna continue. And he would much rather spend a weekend dancing than falling asleep in an armchair, so he got up.

 

The room swayed more than he was expecting before righting itself, a combination of the drinks he had had and the heat being put out by way too many people in a living room. MJ started to lead him towards the dancing floor, but took a right so they were headed outside to the enormous pool and garden instead.

“Wow-wow, where are we going?” Peter said, almost coming to a stop.

“Did you really think I was gonna let you dance in there, with Flash? Also, the music is better out here.” She forms a small smile. Peter wished he could take a picture of her as she smiled, because MJ almost never smiled, but his arms were numb so he noted it instead. She reached out for his dark tie and pulled him towards the short-cut grass garden. Even though the spring air barely was colder than the inside of the house, it cleared the muggy, muddled heat off Peter. He wasn’t sure if he could have handled the heat much longer if it hadn't been for the cold wind.

 

But she was right. The music _was_ better out here. Flash was currently playing _Freaking Out by_ Flo Rida and StayC Reign. He could hear the music in the distance, but the sound of the loud bass was long gone. It was surprisingly nice.

MJ started to dance, but not in a calm way; more of a crazy, dancing-like-a-fool way. Her dance moves got more and more crazy, and as a large smile spread through Peter’s face— he let go and did the same.

Screw everybody else’s opinions. No one was looking at them. The school bully couldn’t see him. He was free.

 

“Get outta town! Your tie!” MJ suddenly said, pointing at his tie like she hadn’t seen it before.

“What?” He could barely hear her as Flash was turning up the volume of the music.

“Your tie! It reminds me of Buckaroo Banzai! Can’t believe I didn’t notice until now!” He was surprised when her lips stretched into a wide grin and she laughed. She _laughed_. And not only that, but she laughed _and_ smiled at the same time. Who was this person, and what had they done to MJ?

Peter calmed down his dancing moves to look at his tie. She was right; it looked strangely much like it, but he hadn’t been able to see much of it due to the dark light both inside and outside. “Oh, you’re right! Same,” he chuckled, gaze locking with hers.

MJ adjusted to her dancing too.“I love Buckaroo Banzai!” Peter was surprised she even knew about Buckaroo Banzai. He was a comic character that later was made a movie of in the eighties. Peter and MJ had only gone to the cinema together once, and Peter had always assumed her to be more of a nerdy book-kinda girl, or just too careless to be interested in movies.

Guess he was wrong.

 

“Thanks! Me too!” He movdd closer to her, and she didn’t seem to mind it. He felt her hands land on his shoulders, and found himself looking down at her face, her enourmous, unusual smile and big, pretty eyes, slowly sliding his hands down to her waist.

“You’re such a liar,” she said to him. Peter felt his neck redden, and he was warm again, but with embarrassment this time.   _Don’t get awkward, don’t get awkward..._

“What?” He asked.

“You said you can't dance, but you dance like a pro.”

Peter was suddenly fascinated by the grass. He chuckled, then looked back at her, and was met by her brown eyes awaiting for a response.

“Well, I guess I can blame Spider-Man for that,” he said, “I’ve also spent the last ten years breakdancing and doing ballet.”

“No shit. Seriously?” She raised her brows, obviously surprised.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

MJ giggled and opened her mouth. “Asshole,” she gave him a light push.

Smirking, Peter felt the hairs on his arms rise, and before he knew it, MJ was taking a step back before launching herself towards him and pushing him into the pool. He didn’t even have time to think. The refreshing, cold water surrounded him all at once before he kicked off the floor and swam up to break the surface. She really was something for herself; pushing him into the pool like this, with the tie she liked so well. Hopefully, aunt May wouldnt get too flustered about him coming home all wet, and Ned not too upset about wetting his mom’s car. He used a hand to pull back the loose curls of his chocolate brown hair that had plastered onto his forehead and looked up at MJ from the water pool with a shocked expression. Though, it didn’t last long, as he was unable to hold it and a large smile took over.

“Michelle Jones! You…” He began and hurried towards her in the water. She was going to pay for this, that was for sure. 

“No no no no!” She giggled, “Peter!” Nope, nope. This was payback.

He grabbed her by her arm and pulled her into the water with him, and she squealed and sent droplets splashing everywhere when she hit the water. She splashed waves of water at him, and Peter returned them with a broad smile and a grimace on his face. For six more minutes, he managed to push his worries aside.

  
  
  



	3. The Gun Dealers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s Spider-Cop,” Peter replied as Blondie launched towards him, dodged the swing of the knife and kicked it out of his grip, webbing the man’s arm to the wall. “Joking. Although it would be pretty cool, dontcha think?” Another web, this time so his other hand stuck to the wall. The man groaned loudly. “And nope. Stopping crime is my—”  
> The Spidey-sense went off for a split second, and Peter turned to his left to see Baldy with the large, strange gun in his hands, directly pointing it at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I’m sorry for the delay, I’ve been busy with school lately. Anyways, enjoy! Please don’t be scared to leave comments and feedback, it only make sure me happy <3

  
“What college are you going to?” MJ asked. They were sitting against the edge of the pool with the green pool lights glowing in the water. The water brushed against Peter’s shoulders as he looked around, noting to himself that he had to buy a new phone. The one in his pocket was a goner.

“No idea. May’s all crazy about it, though,” he answered. “She keeps asking me about the Stark Internship.” He grinned.

“Shit. Yeah. I get it. Parents can be a handful,” she replied while moving her hand through the water. “I’m probably going to Bramson or something. Or The one in North Carolina.”

Peter turned so he could see her properly. “ _North Carolina?_ ” he repeated. He felt like he had been punched in the throat. “That… that’s far away.” It wasn’t only far away, it was _very_ far away. Would he still be able to see her? A sudden wave of panic washed over him.

“Yeah,” she said firmly. “But my dad wants me to go to Bramson, so that’s probably where I’ll be going…” MJ snickered. Peter leaned back again. _Phew_. “I love how we’re talking about school at a party.”

Peter’s gaze drew towards the house as Flash changed song to Lose Yourself to Dance and the whole party erupted in applause.

He looked back at MJ. “Speaking of school, I absolutely nailed the chemistry test last week, even though I only studied for half a day.”

“Dude, shit. You’re crazy,” she laughed.

“Full pott.” He grinned widely.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah!” he blurred out. “Well, I mean— almost… I forgot to put on my name, ‘s all.” He mumbled the last part out of pure embarrassment, _because honestly Peter, how does one even forget that?_

MJ suddenly sat up a little straighter. “What? Did I hear that correctly?” A large smile crossed her face before she hid it with a hand, bubbling with laughter that bounced across the area. Peter felt his cheeks redden.

“Are you done?” he asked after what felt like an eternity.

MJ struggled to breathe between her now silent laughers. “ _You… you…_ ” She didn't even finish her sentence before she began to giggle again. “Oh, man! This is just _sad_!”

“Oh, screw you.” Peter whined and splashed water in her face.

“Language, mister.”

“I hate you,” he went on, though his voice sounded very unconvincing. “I do! You're even worse than JJJ.” He tried to wipe off the smile on his face to make his acting seem more realistic, but it wasn't helping. She obviously wasn't buying it.

“Oh, please. You wouldn't last a day without me. You love me.” She grinned. Peter figured it was best to give up, because if there was one fight he would always lose, it was an argument with MJ.  
  
Peter leaned back against the side of the swimming pool in retreat, shaking his head and laughing lightheartedly. Perhaps it was true, though; he probably wouldn't last long without her. No offense to Ned, but his life was more exciting with her around. He eyed her as she continued to draw her hand through the water, his vision foggy– another thanks to the alcohol. Cheers. Man, he was _never_ drinking more than one cup again, especially something he didn't know what was. Scratch that, he was never drinking _anything_ ever again. For all he knew, it could have been some hard liquor. It probably was, because MJ did not seem sober.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

When Ned finally walked up to them, Peter just glared at him with glassy eyes that mirrored how drunk he was at this point. _Almost twenty minutes_. That was how long Ned had spent in the bathroom. Maybe more. Probably more. He was only guessing, as he hadn't exactly been counting.

“What the _hell_ are you two doing?” Ned asked as he looked down at them in the pool, holding his party hat in his left hand.

MJ straightened herself to look at Ned. “What the _hell_ were _you_ doing in the bathroom for so long?” she sent back. She quickly added, “Actually, don't tell me. I don't even wanna know.”

Ned rolled his eyes. “The line was long, and it took me some time to figure out their creepy-and-very-fancy toilet.” Peter was obviously amused by how defensive Ned was being.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck rose and the Spidey sense was banging wildly in the back of his skull— something was off. Something was happening. Something was _definitely_ happening. He looked towards the other houses in the neighborhood as a frown formed on his face. But _what_?

  
“You okay, Pete?” MJ inquired. “What's wrong?”

And there it was. Like his cue to get out of here, a faint sound of police sirens wailed in the far distance and broke the silence. He didn’t hesitate. Pulling himself up from the pool, Peter shot a glance at his friends, and although their gazes looked somewhat worried, he knew he had to leave.

“Go!” Ned reminded him. Peter looked at MJ, who didn’t say anything, and he jumped over the large fence and shot a web up at the street light, then another one, until he landed behind a corner with a couple of dumpsters, undressing himself to reveal the Spider-Man suit. He couldn’t believe he had actually put it on, as much as it stunk, but it was better to be on the safe side if something actually happened. Like now.

 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

 

As Peter was swinging through the city, he could already hear explosions and guns being fired in the distance. His hair was still damp under the mask, and he had a feeling he would look like a crazy scientist the moment he took it off. He had a light headache caused by all the alcohol, but he figured it would go away soon enough.

  
Excitement bubbled through his veins as he fired out a web and swung upwards, and with ease releasing his grip on the web, falling into a perfect dive down towards the streets before shooting out another web. He would never get tired of this part of being Spider-Man. The way his stomach dropped at the fall and the wind rushing against him– there was no feeling like it.

He was following the train of police cars when he saw a bright green light beam up from the tree tops to his right in the corner of his eyes, then vanishing. “What the hell?” He mumbled to himself, eyeing the tree tops suspiciously in the midnight light. The beams were oddly familiar to the ones Toomes’s people had been using, only a different color. _Probably nothing_ , he mused to himself, but oh no. As he looked ahead to make sure he didn't crash into the wall of a building, the same hue of green lit up around the trees so bright he could almost see them like it was day. Then it was gone again.

Okay, now Peter was getting curious. Looking back ahead, he hesitantly figured the police had this under control and changed his direction towards the forest. If it actually _was_ something, it was better to check it out than to let it be.

 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

“ _...Check this out, man._ ” A deep voice said as Peter landed behind a large, abandoned tunnel-like bridge. He shielded his face at the large explosion of green light and gray smoke, following by a loud “ _woohoo!_ ” from one of the people on the other side of the bridge. As the stone bridge was crumbling by his grip, Peter figured that was what they were shooting at. Peeking his head over the side of the wall, he saw a white van through the light smoke, as well as three middle-aged men and a woman around the same age. The woman was leaning against the van with her arms crossed, while the two men were the ones making all the noise. One of them were holding what looked like a futuristic shotgun with green light glowing from the firing hole.

Was this a gun trade?

  
_"Pretty neat, huh? This is what ya get when ya combine alien tech with Stark guns. Inspired by Toomes, I gotta admit."_

Wait, as in Stark Industries? As in Tony Stark? And alien tech as in the incident in New York? Peter furrowed his brows. He thought there was nothing left of that. He had to get a closer look.

“ _Where did you even get this tech? It looks weird_.”

“ _Are ya not listenin’? It’s alien. Got plenty of it from Toomes’ people. Or well, what’s left of what they got. Gotta feel bad for those guys, ya know. Stark people came and confiscated the whole area. Those suckers_.”

“ _Damn. Hey— how ‘bout the guns? Stark weapons are rare. It’s impossible to steal ‘em anymore._ ”

“ _What’s up with all these bloody questions, man? Are you buying or not?_ ”

“ _I don’t know, dude. I was looking for something a bit more casual._ ”

“ _You contact the only ones selling high-tech weapons like these and tell me you want something casual? Seriously, man? Might’ve as well gone to a normal weapon store.” There was a short pause. “What exactly are ya gonna use the weapon for, anyways?_ ”

“ _That’s none of your concern. How’s that one?_ ”

Peter could hear them walking further away and the sounds of shuffling through heavy machinery. Best guess was that the gun seller had more weapons loaded in his car, which was bad news. How had they even gotten Stark Industries weapons in the first place? He thought that man didn’t sell anything else than fancy smartphones.

“ _Oh, this one? Shoots through anything. Like a laser. The more ya charge, the bigger the blast. Not that damn useful in combat, but good for robbing mini banks if that’s what ‘ya into._ ”

Peter stood straight against the side of the bridge, listening to the conversation. He was waiting for the right moment to jump in when his phone of course just had to ring. Who would be calling him at this point, anyways?

“No, no, no,” Peter whispered to himself.

“ _What was that? Dude, did you set me up?_ ”

He hurriedly pulled up his phone from the pocket of his suit and answered the phone call. “I can’t talk right now,” he whispered, heart drumming in his chest as he could hear footsteps nearing him.

“ _Wait, Peter, where are y-_ “ It was May’s voice, but he knew he had to hang up, as the two guys were too close and could spot him any moment. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he jumped in front of the two guys to their big surprise. “Hey, fellas! You know there’s other ways to make money, like selling hot dogs? You know, getting an actual job?”

“Abort!” Baldy said and took a step back, “Someone must’ve ratted on us!” The two of them began to run towards the van, but Peter was faster and punched the blonde-haired man into the stone wall and fired a web at Baldy’s legs, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground, the gun falling out of his grip. He could already hear the motor of the van starting behind him, so he figured it was best to make this quick.

Blondie pulled out a knife from the pocket of his long jacket and slowly climbed to his legs. There was something about the serious look on his face, the determination, that made Peter smile under the mask. “A knife. Really?” Peter mocked. The man just shook his head. “What's up with you, _Spider-Man?_ Can't you mind your own damn business?”

“It’s Spider- _Cop_ ,” Peter replied as Blondie launched towards him, dodged the swing of the knife and kicked it out of his grip, webbing the man’s arm to the wall. “Joking. Although it would be pretty cool, dontcha think?” Another web, this time so his other hand stuck to the wall. The man groaned loudly. “And nope. Stopping crime is my—”  
The Spidey-sense went off for a split second, and Peter turned to his left to see Baldy with the large, strange gun in his hands, directly pointing it at him. A low hiss sounded from the high-tech weapon, and despite that time seemed to have slowed around Peter, he stood frozen on the ground, failing to dodge the blast from the weapon. Green light beamed out of the gun’s mouth, harshly burning into the upper left side of his abdomen and sending him flying into a tree.

“ _Come on, let’s go! Now!_ ”

Peter heard the faint sounds of a car door being slammed shut and tires screeching against the asphalt. They sounded like echoes in his head… his aching head. Pure pain throbbed in his left abdomen like nothing he’d ever felt before. His eyes slowly opened, and he searched for the courage to look at where he had been shot. _Shot_. There wasn’t an actual bullet, was there? No.

  
Peter finally found the courage to gaze down at the damage. What he saw made his heart double its pace.

His suit, - his beautiful suit he had spent hours on and was constantly fixing, - had been burnt up around his upper left abdomen, revealing a gooey, dark red blob, blood flowing from the deep wound. Small puffs of smoke was coming out of it and hell, it hurt. It hurt _bad_. If he thought the headache he had experienced earlier while swinging through the city was bad, this was a thousand times worse.

His hand clasped protectively tight to the wound, despite that it only made it worse and he had to let out a small cry of pain. He didn’t care how wimpy he sounded. There was no one here.

 _I gotta stop them_ , he thought, groaning harshly as he stumbled to his legs. His hands were shaking wildly— his whole body was shaking.

_What the hell was that?_

Peter took a couple of steps forward and hurried his pace so he was jogging. _I’m fine. All good._ He was just about to fire a web when his abdomen sent a wave of pain through his veins like flames, sending him propelling to the ground with his face first. He felt like a million pounds of dynamite just exploded in his abdomen, and he had to force himself not to scream. Based on how much his right eye throbbed, he had a feeling he was getting a bruise today too.

  
He rolled onto his back. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.”

He webbed his stomach so it would stop bleeding. It was good, it would work like some kind of band-aid. A horribly designed band-aid.

He shakily stood again, almost losing his balance at the next step. _Come on, Pete_ , he sneered to himself. _Are you seriously gonna let a couple of morons get away?_ He took another small step forward before shooting out a web at a street light and hauling himself up. _I got this_. Although his vision was cloudy, he managed to see the white van drive towards the highway. It wasn’t very far away. He could still do this. He could make it. He could stop the bad guys, like he always did.

Shooting out another web, then another one, and groaning every third second, Peter was getting closer and closer to the car, but the closer he was getting, the more his body was starting to give up on him. Swinging through trees and the street lights wasn’t something he was used to, but then again, despite all the crazy people he fought, he wasn’t used to being shot by a high-tech laser gun and slammed into a tree.

He shot a web at another city light but was met by an extreme jolt of pain in protest; losing the grip around the web and falling harshly onto the road. The pain was getting unbearable and his horrible designed band-aid was starting to worsen the wound. But blood was beginning to flow again, so he webbed it again, standing up and continuing to swing towards the van. He couldn’t let this go, he was too close.

Shooting out a web and landing on top of the van, Peter had to grit his teeth at how his abdomen was protesting in pain. He had to urge himself not to pass out.

“Woah!” He wailed as the driver of the car began to sick-sack on the road as an attempt to shake him off. Peter struggling to keep himself on, but had fallen too many times already today and was determined to not do it again.

But okay, now he _definitely_ was painting the car red. The motor of the old van roared as the car took a turn and the tires screeched loudly, but miraculously, Peter was still holding tight. He yelled in surprise as a green beam shot through the roof by Peter’s face, missing him but creating a large hole so he could see the woman and man properly.

“Hello,” Peter stuck his head through. “I believe we haven’t…” He was heaving for his breaths, “ met properly—“ As soon as Baldy spotted him, the man grumbled loudly and swung the gun for him. “Okay, I guess you’re a little cranky today, huh?” Peter said, dodging the gun and moving his head up. The pain was starting to become unbearable and his breaths were more ragged. He had to hurry up with this.

Shooting out a web at the top roof of the van, Peter jumped forward, creating enough impact to break the front window with his legs; the window around him shattering into a million pieces.

“Sorry ‘bout the car,” Peter groaned and kicked Baldy into the door, causing it to open and the man to roll out on the road, the gun quick on his heels. He did the same to the woman who was driving the car, Ponytail, bit the car jerked back as there no longer was pressure on the gas pedal. Peter’s head slammed into the seat of the car. _Ouch_.

  
As soon as the car stood completely still, Peter limped past it to see the figure of the man on the grass, the shattered weapon just a couple of meters away. Ponytail was on the road just a couple of meters away. Despite that they were bad guys, Peter was glad there were no signs of blood around them. As he moved forward to check them out, both Baldy and Ponytail were breathing, but unconscious.

 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

After webbing both of the people to the car, Peter leaned against the side of the car, hand clasping against his wound as he used his other hand to press the sensory patch beneath his right ear. It instantly connected him to Captain Stacy.

Although Peter and Spider-Man had grown closer to the police captain over the years, Peter wasn’t so sure the man liked the fact that he was calling him at midnight.

“ _I’m waiting for the reason as to why you’re calling me at twelve, Parker? On my day off?_ ”

Yup. Just like he had anticipated.

“Sorry, Cap’n,” Peter attempted his best to sound like he was, in fact, not missing half of his stomach, and probably even more blood. He was heaving for his breaths and could barely even stand up at this point, and his voice was sore and raspy.

“ _It’s Captain_.” Captain Stacy corrected him.

“Huh?” Peter looked at the hand he was pressing against his wound. It was bloody, just like the rest of his suit. Man, how was he ever getting home looking like this? He hoped aunt May still was out eating dinner.

  
“ _You said Cap’n. Like Cap’n Crunch._ ”

Peter smiled despite the blazing pain he was going through. To be honest, he was surprised he hadn’t passed out yet. “All right, but to be fair, Cap’n Crunch was a war hero and the—“

“ _Please just get to the point._ ”

“Anyways, _Cap-tain_ , I just stopped a couple of gun dealers by the outcast of Queens. Futuristic high-tech weapons... you name it. There’s a whole van here loaded with it. Should probably…” he made a croaky inhale. “check it out.”

“ _I’ll send a team._ ”

There was a short pause, and Peter could feel his eyelids getting heavier every second. His head fell.

“ _Are you alright, Peter?_ ”

His head jolted up, eyes wide like his alarm clock had just gone off by his bedside. “What? Yeah, I’m all good. Couldn’t be better. All… all good.”

“ _Okay… but please, go home. You don’t sound so good._ ”

Peter swallowed. “I’m headed home. Say hi to Gwen for me.”

“ _Bye, Peter._ ”

Before he left, Peter grabbed one of the weapons that looked the _least_ terrifying from the back of the car. It wasn’t wise of him, but he needed proof if he was going to inform the Avengers about this. He didn’t expect them to believe him, but it was worth a try.

He normally wouldn’t bring a high-tech weapon home, but considering that he was drunk on both alcohol and adrenaline, he didn’t even hesitate. Usually, Peter would’ve used less than twenty minutes to get back to May and his apartment from here. But tonight, he used almost an hour.

 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

The moment Peter slipped through the window to his room, he went ahead and pulled himself out of his Spider-Man suit, biting his underlip hard so he didn’t accidentally scream to wake up the neighbors or aunt May. Well, if she was home. He was taking zero chances. As soon as it was off, he could see the wound properly, and to be honest, it was nasty. Scratch that, it was _horrifying_ to look at. The webbing has dissolved completely and it red liquid was starting to ooze out again. Peter usually only got injuries like cuts and bruises. He could handle that. He had been getting bruises long before he had gotten his powers, so getting them with his suit on never bothered him. However, gunshots and these kind of wounds… Fuck, how he hated them.

  
Emerging into the bathroom with his hand clasping against the damage, he grabbed a washcloth, a needle, a thread, a bottle of antiseptic liquid and a couple of painkillers from the drawers. Just before he leaned against the edge of the counter, he looked at himself in the mirror— messy hair, pale face and a large bruise around his right eye. But no blood. His stomach was almost alien compared to his face, well, if it hadn’t been for the bruise.

  
Cursing underneath his breath as he quickly tore off a piece of suit that had come with the wound, Peter kept his jaw closed to keep himself from crying out in pain. As soon as all the pieces of his suit were out, he pressed the wet washcloth against the wound, but immediately had to lift it off by the extreme pain that blazed through the wound. His hands were shaking and there was a blood taste in his mouth, probably by how many times he had bit his tongue already. He placed it down again, quickly washing the wound while the pain stabbed him over and over. His efforts were rather futile as more blood kept pouring out the more he tried to clean it. He groaned lightly.

At least now he could see the wound properly. It was deep and raw, the edges jagged. And it was still bleeding. This would definitely take some time to stitch up.

  
The antiseptic liquid was the worst. As he soaked the washcloth with it and gently dabbed it over the large wound, he let out a loud groan, perhaps a bit too loud. But it hurt. It _really_ hurt. The pain was exploding, burning new and raw.

He grabbed the needle and held the thread with his other hand, trying to thread the needle but his hands were shaking too violently. “Come on,” he urged himself. Finally, the thread went through the hole of the needle and he looked down at the wound, examining it as blood continued to flow. Where in the world would he start sewing? The damage was gigantic. It wasn’t a cut, it had the shape of a large, deformed circle in his abdomen.

Not wasting any more time, Peter pushed the needle through his skin and on the thread until it tugged on the skin and it was firmly in place. He’d just have to see around the edges. Although he wasn’t the best sewer in the world, he was undoubtedly used to patch himself up. He grit his teeth at the sharp pain as he stabbed himself over and over, attempting his best to keep his hand steady.

The process was long. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, so the stitches were bad. Peter was sure he had used half of all the thread when only two stitches remained. Pushing the needle through another patch of skin, the suture was completed. With a shaky sigh, he fixed the thread in pace and lifted his sticky, bloody hands away from the wound. As he looked at it, he had to admit it still looked incredibly disgusting and he had to keep himself from vomiting, not only by the wound but by the stench of sickness and blood that hung heavy in the air.

But at least the wound wasn’t bleeding anymore, right?

The thought of what had happened earlier lingered in his head as he grabbed a roll of bandage and medical tape. He pressed the paper over the wound, covering it up and taping it shut with the tape. Both of them were almost empty. Add that to the list of infinite things he’d have to pick up, as well as more spandex.

The last thing Peter did was take the pain meds and put on a clean t-shirt. As soon as he had washed his bloodstained hands and opened the window to clear out the air in the bathroom, he crouched shakily down and grabbed the suit that laid in the middle of his room. It wasn’t looking great at all; it was missing a large chump of spandex. But he figured it was time to fix it now anyways, considering that it had many other cuts, and was literally carrying a stank of vomit. He found it insane and amusing how MJ or Ned hadn’t smelled it at the party, but then again, the entire party had smelled of stale sweat and alcohol.

  
Grabbing the bloodstained washcloth too, Peter opened the door to his room and was just about to walk into the larger bathroom to run them all through the washing machine, when he saw very angry-looking aunt May glaring straight at him. She wore a dark blue dress with her brown hair tied in a loose bun that now was falling down just below her shoulders.

But oh God.

Aunt May was home.

And she was staring right at him, her hands crossed.

  
“Oh, hi, May…” Peter began uncomfortably and hid the bundle of fabric behind his back. Could this get any worse? He hadn’t expected her to be home at this point with the whole “I’m going on a date, coming home late” thing. What time was it?

“I’d appreciate it if you actually answered my calls,” May said and walked towards him. Peter refused to meet her gaze. “Do you realize how worried I’ve been?”

“Well, the party got pretty wild, you know—“

“Look at me, Peter,” she suddenly interrupted him.

“Can I just—“

“ _Peter Benjamin Parker, look at me!_ ”

Peter swallowed and looked down at her. She had said his whole name. She had to be pretty pissed. However, the moment she gasped and moved her hand to her mouth, his gaze fluttered away. “I was actually gonna wash some clothes, if you don’t mind.” He was about to walk past her, but aunt May blocked his path.

“Who did this to you? Huh? I tell you to come home at eleven thirty, and you come home two hours later? What happened?”

“It’s okay, May,” Peter assured her. “I spilled some cola on a kid… they were pretty mad, and I was… mouthing off, you know. Next thing I know—“

“Who was it?” she broke in, moving her hand up to his bruise. He flinched away.

“It’s okay—“

“I want to know who it was! I’ll personally call their parents and I’m gonna go there and—“

Now it was Peter who interrupted.

“May, I said it was okay!”

She glared up at him. Peter didn’t know what to say. Before he knew it, aunt May wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, embracing him for a hug. Despite the burning pain in his stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of his aunt’s warmth.

Aunt May sighed. “God, you’re so cold, Pete.”

He chuckled lightly, still holding the fabric with a hand behind his back. 

"Okay, but I really gotta wash this," Peter said, holding the fabric and walking into the bathroom as she let him go.

Would she ever get used to seeing him like this?

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make me happy, happiness gives me motivation, motivation gives chapters faster. See where I’m going at?


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